Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N: I was going to try to stay away from angst for a bit. And cut down on the waffle. Well, I guess it's a case of "it's the thought that counts."

Morris dancing is a type of folk dancing I tend to mentally classify as being part and parcel of Ye Olde English medieval fairs. Google the subject for more info (and info that is more accurate). I'd been reading Lords and Ladies by Pratchett. I couldn't resist writing in something about Morris dancers after that – it's not integral to the plot of this story, though. Be glad I didn't include the stick and bucket dance.

Eating horses: it's not illegal in NZ as far as I know – a restaurant tried putting "Mr Ed" burgers or something similar on the menu. It took them off the menu pretty quickly after (or so I am told) significant public pressure. Funny how in NZ it's okay to turn horses into catfood or sell them to the French but people start frothing at the brain if horses get served up as the meat with the three veg.

ooOOoo

Chapter 39: If

Harry smoothed Hermione's ruffled feathers before she could take offence and storm off which, even he had to admit, made a change from everyone trying to smooth his. He decided it couldn't hurt to go with them for double Potions that afternoon. Draco was there, and his eyes gleamed when Harry told him that the shoes had lasted up to a gallop across the hills on soft turf and harder track.

"Excellent," Draco said.

Harry supposed that it was fair enough for Draco to be so pleased. He'd worked hard, after all. Harry was going to ask why Draco had decided to use silver – was it easier to work or just classier, or had Draco put in some special spells? – but Remus, who was the fill-in teacher for that afternoon, called their attention to the front of the class where he was demonstrating the correct procedure for skinning exploding puffballs.

Harry, who had decided to ignore anyone being a prat, was having trouble looking at Lupin. That seemed to be fine by Remus, who managed to ignore Harry for almost the entirety of the class. The only time Harry got any recognition was when Neville's puffball went ballistic and tried to burrow into Harry's ear before it exploded. Lupin twitched his wand and the puffball zoomed into a cauldron which in turn had a lid smartly slammed onto it. Lupin held the lid down as the puffball banged at the sides: it sounded a great deal like popcorn popping before exploding with a muffled whumph!

"Another try, Neville?" Lupin panted.

Neville, not used to having a Potions professor not tear him into confetti over a mistake like that, nodded mutely.

If Harry had been able to convince Severus he hadn't lied about being his friend, would Snape have been a nicer person and not terrorised poor Neville? He waved Neville's apologies aside with an "It's fine, Neville, honest," even though his right ear was ringing and he wished Neville had been paying more attention and not cut the stalk before making the incision into the crown in the manner Lupin had demonstrated.

Harry mulled it over after class before deciding that it wasn't his fault. He was just trying to make new ways of feeling guilty for himself. Whatever Severus had thought, Snape had been a grown man and a teacher. He'd had no right to treat Neville like he had.

But somehow it made the gap between the two – Severus and Snape – that much more defined.

How much of a step had it taken for Severus to turn into Snape?

And had it been Harry who gave him the push in that direction?

"What's bothering you, Harry?" Ron asked as they took the stairs up to the common room.

"Oh, nothing really." He didn't know how to say it. And he still didn't know what exactly it was that was bothering him. On top of that, the subject involved Severus so there wasn't really any way he could have a dispassionate discussion with Ron. Besides, Ron had to go and attend a meeting with Hermione and the Ravenclaw prefects. After Ron hurried off, worrying about being late, Harry was still distracted with his own thoughts when Luna slipped through the crowd. She'd been sitting alone at lunch, not wanting company even when Harry had asked her to join him, Ron and Hermione. "Harry… do you have a moment?"

Someone behind her, annoyed that she was holding up traffic on the stairs, shoved past. "Move it, Loony," they sighed.

Harry's first reaction was to shove the person back down the stairs. But he was a fourth-year and Harry wasn't comfortable with the idea of bullying anyone, especially after meeting his father. So he let them go past. Feeling off balance, Harry held the door open for Luna to step through.

There were groans.

"Honestly, Harry – isn't it bad enough you're hanging around with Slytherins; now you're inviting Loony Lovegood into Gryffindor space?" Parvati called out. She was seconded by the fifth years who were huddled over in one corner and wanted a distraction from their homework.

"Yeah, at least bring someone welcome here…" said one of the seventh years.

"Calm down," Harry said. "She's not staying." Why did people make such a big deal over visitors? "Luna…?"

But Luna had already backed outside. "It's okay, Harry," she said. "I'll see you later. Or not."

She closed the door behind her quietly.

Harry rounded on his housemates. "You… what the hell is the matter with you lot?" he roared.

Parvati and Lavender blinked at his rudeness. Lavender folded her arms and pursed her lips. Snape – even Severus at his most spotty – would have looked threatening. Lavender just looked constipated. "What's the matter with us?" she snapped. "What's the matter with you? We don't go around inviting other people into the common room. You know that!"

"Why not? Whatever happened to hospitality? Or common courtesy, for that matter?"

"Oh, come on, Potter," said Seamus, who had been sitting over on a sofa playing chess with Dean. "Stop acting daft. It's just Luna. And if we let you let her in, then who next? Malfoy? You-know-who?" To his credit he hadn't been one of those telling Luna to get out – but he hadn't told them to lay off, either. Neither had Harry, Harry thought guiltily.

Anger flared up. It was easier to deal with than guilt. "To hell with the lot of you. The next time Voldemort shows up I'm giving him the password into here. About time you bunch of arseholes learned what really matters in the world – and stopped expecting everyone else to shelter you from it."

The chess set exploded as Harry stormed out, but he barely noticed as shrapnel went whizzing around the room, sending people diving for cover.

He was at the bottom of the stairs by the time he noticed anything more. And it was only the sight of Draco and the recollection that he hadn't asked him about the source of the silver for the shoes that snapped him halfway back to sanity.

Draco turned with an uncannily bland expression that should have warned Harry.

"Hey, have you s-" Harry didn't finish the sentence.

WHAM!

There was a blinding pain shot through with stars so bright they bounced off the backs of his eyes.

When they died, his face ached and he could see Draco and Neville, who had their wands on each other. Where had Neville come from? Oh – he'd stayed behind to talk to Lupin. He must have just been coming up from the dungeons when Draco had –

"Wha'd you hit me for?" Harry demanded, cupping his cheek gingerly with one hand.

Draco bit out the sentences as if he was too angry to try anything complicated: "I just saw Luna going outside. She was in tears. I asked her what had happened. She said 'Harry'. Want to tell me why I shouldn't have hit you?"

Harry prodded at his cheek and took his fingers away much more quickly when pain flared again. "Neville – put your wand down. Draco… has a point."

Neville boggled at Harry. "Are you crazy? He'll –"

Whatever he thought Draco would or wouldn't do wasn't said. Draco hit Neville with an expelling hex that sent Neville's wand flying. Then Draco, carefully and deliberately keeping eye contact with Neville, put his own wand in his pocket. Neville calmed down at that.

"Well?" Draco demanded.

"Um… she wanted to talk to me. Some people got rude when I tried to take her into the common room."

"Well, it's hardly unknown for Gryffs to lack manners," Draco sneered. "She must have noticed that. What, specifically, did you do?"

"I, ah, I didn't do anything…" Harry admitted, flushing with shame. "Not until after she was gone."

"Oh. A bit late by then."

"Yeah."

"What did you do?" Neville asked, as if expecting the castle to start burning from some inferno Harry had left behind.

"Nothing much… just swore at them a little bit. And…"

"What?"

"I might have hinted that if Voldemort came along I'd give him the password for the common room so that they could try dealing with him for a change…" Harry mumbled quickly.

"What?" said Neville, just out of earshot.

But Draco had heard. He snorted and shook his right hand. The knuckles were pink and must have hurt. Harry hoped they did. His whole face was beginning to ache. "You won't be sleeping there tonight," Draco pointed out.

"No. No chance of Slytherin giving me a bed?"

"Don't push your luck. Even if I could, Pansy might poison you. I wouldn't try Ravenclaw, either. Even they wouldn't ignore how Luna was treated. I should hope."

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Hufflepuff?"

"Not if they think you're giving passwords to the Dark Lord," Draco said happily, warming to the prospect of Harry's being booted out of the castle. "I don't recommend the barn. Too many nocturnal monsters."

"Yeah. Great." Harry thought fleetingly of the small room Severus had used. He hadn't been back there – when he'd come back to this time it had been in Dumbledore's office and he still wasn't sure who'd taken him to the Infirmary. Dumbledore, he suspected, although he hadn't seen Dumbledore since he'd woken up in the Infirmary. But something in him twisted at the thought of going back. There were ghosts there, and not of the easy-to-deal-with everyday incorporeal spirit plus dripping ectoplasm kind. "Let's worry about that later. Which way did Luna go?"

"What way do you think?"

"Right." Harry set off up towards Squirrel Hill. "You don't have to come."

"No," Draco replied, when it looked like Neville wasn't going to reply. "But it's another half hour until dinner."

"And I need to make sure you don't kill each other," Neville said.

Draco smirked. "He's got a point."

Harry rolled his eyes. Then wished he hadn't as his face throbbed. It wasn't like he could wince, either – any movement threatened to burst his eyeballs. Lucky he didn't feel in the least like smiling.

ooOOoo

Luna was busy brushing Simon. Even the horse looked bewildered by the ferocity with which she used the brush. And after every few strokes of the body brush, she would draw it across the wicked metal spikes of the curry-comb with a vindictive expression on her face.

Dust flew.

Harry had never seen her this angry. He stopped at the gate. Not even Simon's pleading whinny would get him into the paddock.

"Hey, Luna," Draco said. "How are the shoes holding up?"

"They're fine," Luna said. "You did a really good job. I'd love to know what spells you used to strengthen the silver." Her voice was mild – completely counter to her expression. Harry swallowed.

"Luna, we need to talk."

Luna paused then, resting the brush on Simon's glossy back as she stared at Harry with uncharacteristic focus. That tension in her upper lip was there as she stared at Harry like he had suddenly become boot-scrapings. Her pale eyes flashed and gave Harry a nasty moment of déjà vu. "No. We don't. We needed to talk ten minutes ago. There is absolutely no need for us to talk now. I know exactly what you say. Why would you need to talk when I know what people say?"

Harry winced a little.

"Do you really know what he said?" Draco put in unexpectedly. "Apparently he told the entire Gryffindor common room that he'd give Voldemort the password because it was about time they learned to take care of their own messes."

Neville paled. "You wouldn't do that, Harry?"

Luna put her head to one side. "Would you? Some days it must be a temptation. I've heard what they say about you, too. I wouldn't have thought you'd be so stupid as to encourage it."

Harry's eyes bugged. "I wasn't ENCOURAGING them!" he shouted, making Simon snort in surprise. "I was taken by surprise! I… I never thought they'd be that bloody cold to you! I mean, me, yeah, they periodically go through phases when they treat me like something the kneazle sicked up… God, even Ron has treated me like that! But I didn't realise they'd treat someone else like that!"

"No? Where have you been?" Draco drawled. "I thought you had a ringside seat for the whole 'Let's put Malfoy in a pen with a rabid monster' show?"

Harry tripped over his own anger. "What?"

"Or what about the whole 'Treat Longbottom like rubbish because… because you're the sort of person who gets off on that' thing?" Neville said, pointedly glaring at Draco.

Draco shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's not like I do that any more, is it?"

"Well? Did you ever…" Neville took a deep breath, his face reddening, "…ever apologise?"

Draco gaped at him like Neville had just sprouted a second head. "Didn't know you wanted one. Well, for whatever use an apology is, I apologise," he said.

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome," Draco said, still sounding wary. "I don't have to pay you money or anything, do I?"

Neville blinked. "Why?"

"I guess it isn't a Gryffindor thing. Never mind. I apologise most whole-heartedly and won't do it again," Draco said quickly as if he'd just got off without some terrible punishment he'd been worrying about. "Okay?"

"Oo-kay-yy," Neville said slowly, as if wishing he'd remembered to bring a lawyer but didn't know why he needed one.

"Would it help if I apologised?" Harry said to Luna. When had the conversation become about Draco and Neville?

Luna's upper lip tightened further. "All apologies are are useless words," she said quietly.

Draco nodded sagely, then stopped as Harry glared at him.

"I don't know how to let you know how much I want to make things right," Harry said. It sounded weak but it was as honest as he could find words for. He opened the gate and walked through, followed by Draco. Neville thought better of coming closer when Simon snorted uneasily and stamped a foot.

"Er… I'll just stay back here, shall I?"

"That would be best," Luna said. She wasn't looking at Harry, but he still burned from the glare she didn't have turned on him…

He took a deep breath. "Can we start again? Like maybe from the bit where you wanted to talk about something, and then stop right before other people got involved and I turned into the leading candidate for the Git of the Year award?"

Luna bowed her head and Harry was reminded of another time he'd completely messed up with someone. A flying tackle hadn't worked on Severus – and if he tried one on Luna, Simon would trample him like a Vrikolaki.

But he wouldn't let Luna go the same way as Severus.

"I think it worked out for the best," she said quietly. "What I wanted to talk to you about was something that didn't really concern you. It certainly doesn't concern Gryffindors. No offence, Neville – it's just the truth."

Neville, leaning on the gate, shrugged, but then he was used to Luna. "None taken."

Maybe, Harry thought wretchedly, Neville would lose interest in Ginny and take up with Luna. She deserved someone as steady and loyal as Neville. And it ate at him like a fire and for a brief moment he hated his friend.

"You want company for a bit?" Draco asked.

Luna twisted her mouth into a wry attempt at a smile. "Just Simon, thanks. Humans are a bit too complicated some days."

"Tell me about it. Try Slytherin politics some day."

Luna did smile at that, and the fire burned more fiercely in Harry that Malfoy could make her feel better and he couldn't.

ooOOoo

"I wonder if it concerns Slytherins?" Draco mused when they were approaching the Infirmary. Harry's face felt to be swelling up like a pumpkin, and Draco's knuckles ached. He'd remarked earlier that it was probably the reason why wands had been invented, and even Neville has smiled.

At that point it was obvious that Draco and Harry weren't going to rip each other's throats out, so Neville left them at the doors and went off to, as he said, do some damage control. "Doesn't everything concern Slytherins?" Neville called back over his shoulder.

"Didn't realise he had a sense of humour," Draco commented as they waited for Madam Pomfrey to finish unwrapping a mummy who turned out to be Hannah Abbot who'd overdone an acne charm.

After Hannah left (and only after she'd promised Pomfrey that she wouldn't take any more advice from Moaning Myrtle), the medi-witch quickly healed Harry and Draco and, rolling her eyes in disbelief at their claim they'd both been attacked by the same suit of armour, told them to wait while she went to check on another patient and get another diagnostic spell to check Harry wasn't suffering from concussion ("Which you must be if you expect me to believe a tall tale like that!").

"I s'pose that was payback for me breaking your dad's nose," Harry said eventually, more to put a hole in the silence than anything else. The Infirmary had the heaviest silences of any part of the castle he could name. Although Madam Pomfrey had warned them sternly not to start fighting and upset the patient in the other room, which made a conversation with Malfoy a little tricky, Harry didn't like the silence. In this setting especially, it smacked of ruin. Even talking about Lucius Malfoy should be better than the silence… but come to think of it, that was a bad start to a peaceful conversation. Still, it was too late to go back now. Harry wondered glumly if he was developing a knack for regrets into an art form.

"You didn't really tell me what happened for him to deserve it," Draco replied calmly, scrutinising his knuckles which were painted yellow with an iodine-based potion.

"Yeah."

The silence settled in again, heavy and unwelcome as smog.

Draco stared out the window, which had a good view of Squirrel Hill. "She'll calm down," he said eventually.

"She might not," Harry pointed out gloomily.

"So who's this friend of your who didn't forgive you?"

Harry's eyebrows lifted. "I swear you should take over from Trelawney…"

Draco shrugged. "Was it Snape?"

Harry leaped off the bed. "How the hell did you know that?"

Draco gave him an old-fashioned look – if cynicism had ever gone out of fashion. "I put two and two together and made five. Arithmancy, not Divinations. So. Are you going to tell me? You said you'd tell me sooner or later…"

Harry took a deep breath and sat back down.

"I didn't tell him who I was. Well, I told him I was from another dimension, not from the future. He would have hexed me into another dimension for sure if he'd found out I was James Potter's son."

"Yeah. I heard a few things about your dad and his friends at school," Draco said evenly, as if ancient history didn't affect him. "Sort of your quintessential Gryffindors."

"They weren't. They were awful."

"Like I was saying."

"Huh." Harry stared down at his hands. "Severus put a charm on me to disguise me, and I got to know my dad and his mates better. I wish I hadn't," he added darkly.

"Mm."

Harry looked up. "Is this the point where I say 'oh, I guess you know all about that'?"

"Not if you want to live," Draco replied smoothly. "My family is not your concern. Not unless someone from it is threatening you in some immediate way."

Well. That was a line drawn if ever there was. Harry could probably test it by saying how Lucius was a fairly immediate threat. But Harry didn't think Draco meant it in a threatening way – from hints Draco had dropped, he thought it meant that Draco needed to sort things out himself, especially without the do-gooding help of Gryffindor bunglers who didn't know when to leave well enough alone. And besides, Lucius wasn't a threat until the Blockade was ended. Or not a threat Harry could counter until then, anyway. So maybe it was best not to point that out to Draco just now.

Robert Python would have mentioned the need for space and respect for another's personal boundaries at this point, Harry thought, trying to think back to chapter 3 of The Horse Mutterer. Especially with a sick person in the next room who needed the sort of peace and quiet a magical duel wasn't renowned for bestowing.

"So are you going to tell me or not?"

Harry shrugged. It was Draco who'd gone out looking for Snape after the Potions master disappeared. Draco deserved to know, even if Harry didn't feel comfortable telling him the story. "I went back in time. Snape found me."

"You called him 'Severus' just before."

Bloody, damnable Draco – he had to pick up details like that. "Yeah. We got to be friends. Sort of."

"Don't tell me he was friends with the son of someone he hated… no, you said you'd come from a different dimension…"

"Yeah. I told him I was called Harry Lovegood."

Draco sniggered.

Harry ignored that and continued, "He… I don't know why he believed me. But it helped when my dad tried to hex me in the library and I bounced it back at him. Of course everyone tried to blame me and Severus. I found out later that there was a lot of, um, I guess you'd call it Gryffindor chauvinism."

"Reality bites, doesn't it."

Harry frowned. Maybe it had been like that back then, but… He quickly reconsidered his argument as he remembered the Slytherins lined up outside the Great Hall, watching McGonagall taking points of Millicent Bulstrode. "It wasn't helped by the Head of Slytherin…"

"Father said the man was a buffoon… and that thanks to his neglect the Dark Lord recruited a lot of people he wouldn't otherwise have been able to attract."

"I noticed. I had breakfast with a whole lot of them. I kind of liked Evan Rosier…"

"You wouldn't have liked what he did later on," Draco mused. "I heard a few stories about him. Very… fixed ideas about mixed marriages, he had."

Harry didn't want to know what that meant. He'd rather hold onto the idea of Evan Rosier at the same age as Harry, not yet morally deformed by a cloak and a white mask. "I didn't like Bellatrix. Or her not-yet-husband."

"Dear Aunt Bella. She was quite gorgeous when she was younger. Was she mad as a hatter then?"

"If she wasn't born that way, I expect your grandparents dropped her on her head several times. Oh, I met your mum. She was okay. Severus didn't hate her, anyway."

"Usually a good sign." Draco smiled. "So what did you get up to then?"

Harry rattled off a list, including the Shrieking Shack (Draco already knew about Remus), the disaster in Potions (and the image of Professor Boggle hurtling out of the class made Draco laugh), the note from Dumbledore which took points off any students who 'impeded research' and Severus' reaction to it (which had Draco rocking back and forth with laughter), as well as the finding of the Golden Sickle (Harry kept his voice down as he related that, not wanting any of the portraits to hear). Harry didn't tell Draco about the Muggle items or the old storeroom Severus had taken as his own because he didn't feel safe in Slytherin, because he felt it wasn't something Severus would want him to share, but he did tell Draco about the disastrous revelation about Harry's identity… and how Severus had worked it out and been beyond livid.

"Can you blame him?"

"No," Harry agreed. "But I wish he'd believed me when I told him that… that I hadn't just been using him."

"That you were his friend."

Harry hadn't actually said that, but he nodded.

Draco stared up at the ceiling. "Mr Forgiveness he was not."

Harry nodded again.

"It's annoying that we have the magical ability to travel through time and we still can't use it to make things right, isn't it? Makes you wonder if it's a gift or a curse."

Harry, not able to comment on that, looked out the window. Dusk was falling and it must be getting cold out there; dark clouds were rolling in from the west. There hadn't been rain for a while now – Hogwarts was overdue for some. Hopefully Luna wouldn't be out there when it started. Simon had his blanket on, which would keep the worst of the weather out if the horse decided not to shelter in the barn. Luna had climbed on Simon's back and was now lying face down using him as a mattress. She seemed to have her ankles crossed over his rump and was resting her head on her arms, which were folded over the horse's withers. Enough warmth should seep through the blanket to keep her from catching a chill, Harry hoped. Simon had his head down and was grazing, moving slowly one foot at a time as he followed his mouth. Harry frowned, but not just from worry that Luna was taking a risk in the way she insisted on treating the horse like a big cuddly toy. "It is annoying."

Draco was also looking out the window. "Isn't that Lupin's dog? Funny how a werewolf owns a dog…"

Harry bristled automatically, but then realised Draco was just remarking on something he found odd. It wasn't politically correct, but then neither was Draco. Harry smiled as he considered that if Draco ever went into politics he'd have to learn a lot about tact. He stopped smiling as soon as he realised Draco was correct about the identity of the dog – it was Sirius, wandering through the meadow up towards Squirrel Hill. Harry tensed.

"I've seen him up there a few times," Draco said. "While you were away, and then again when you came back… when you're not up there, though. Seems like an all-right sort of dog, although he growled when I tried to pat him. Probably he's a guard dog rather than a pet."

"Sounds like a bad-mannered mutt," Harry growled.

Draco shot him a sideways glance. "You're really down on Lupin at the moment. It wasn't his fault about trying to kill you and Snape in the Shrieking Shack. Black set the three of you up. And we all know now that Black is quite happy with the idea of murder." He paused at Harry's tight-lipped glare, then continued as if finding something curious, "It's strange how people change. You wouldn't have liked what your friend Severus was like when he was a Death Eater…" Draco scowled at Harry's glare as if he found the naivete behind it personally insulting. "Oh, for Merlin's sake… I don't know that much, but I heard a few stories of what he and others of my father's associates got up to. I used to think they were really… let's say… good role models.

"But then I had some time to myself to think and I considered what my so-called good role models actually did in terms of human pain. And I no longer agreed with what they'd done. I realise how didactic this sounds, but what I'm really getting at is that people change. Severus became a Death Eater who in turn became Professor Snape (whom you loathed, need I point out?) and a spy for Dumbledore's side. And died trying, perhaps, for forgiveness. Which all sounds revoltingly melodramatic but is illustrative of how one person changed… He may not have changed in essence – I bet he was always bad-tempered and borderline sociopathic – but how he chose to affect the world altered. What you couldn't forgive in someone in a time gone past is no longer as relevant – the pain is not forgotten, perhaps, but it becomes no longer quite so pertinent than it was; certainly not when weighed up against the possibilities of the future."

Maybe Harry was concussed. Something had left him mildly stunned, anyway, and he didn't think it was a simple case of Draco's fist. "You… you're saying that you've changed?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I think that's obvious. Although I need to make it much less so if my father ever gets in here along with his master." He spat the last word out distastefully. "I was talking about your desire for forgiveness contrasted with your inability to actually give it when it matters."

"You mean for Lupin."

"If Professor Snape walked in here now and started taking points off Gryffindor because you breathe wrong, I bet you'd get over your guilt like that," Draco said, snapping his fingers. "Why don't you look at Lupin the same way? He's not the same wishy-washy fool he was back then. Well, not completely… Well, okay, maybe he still is. But he makes an effort these days to do the right thing rather than overlook it because his friends might be peeved with him for ratting them out as the fink-bastards they are. So maybe you need to work out who he is now rather than brood over what he was then."

So he shouldn't carry on a grudge against someone who'd annoyed him because that person suddenly wanted to be a better person? Draco was advocating that? Draco, who hated Weasleys because they irked his father, said that?

Maybe Harry hadn't gone back in time to a different dimension, but the evidence was stacking up in favour of his having returned to one. Harry shook his head. Things couldn't be that simple, he thought with a small, private smile. And Draco seemed to be carrying on a rambling conversation with him and talking about something along a parallel line; what he was really saying was something else the Slytherin must have been thinking about privately and deeply for some time now, but without actually putting down any clear formula of wisdom that Harry could follow. Perhaps Draco was using this conversation to find that elusive formula. Yes, Harry decided: Draco was merely thinking aloud, but framing his thoughts within Harry's difficulties.

Was that supposed to be reassuring?

Harry decided to hazard a wild guess as to the root theory: "So what you're saying is that people are fickle and only take issue with what's right in front of them?"

"You could interpret it as such." Draco grinned as if Harry had completely missed the point and it amused the hell out of Draco that he was so thick. "Now there's something that could be capitalised on if you use the media right."

Harry shook his head again, giving up on trying to work out what Draco wasn't saying. "You're going to rule the world one day, is that it?"

Draco said with a shrug, "I'd do a better job at it… well, once I get some things worked out. I'm too young and my ideas may be a bit radical right now."

"Oh?" Harry was definitely concussed. Or maybe Malfoy was. "What needs to be worked out?"

"Getting rid of the Dark Lord for starters. That's your job, I believe," he added, nodding regally to Harry, who snorted; "then remove Fudge and all his useless cronies." His gaze refocused somewhere far beyond the wall and beyond current pessimistic reality. "I've had a few ideas about setting up a more global framework to stop national crises getting out of hand the way things have here… I believe the Muggles set something up after the Grindelwald war… the Muggles were even worse off than we were, I found out. Apart from the sheer volume of deaths, the per capita horror was even worse. So they tried to set up an organisation to stop that sort of nonsense happening again."

"The United Nations."

"Catchy title. Is it any good?"

"I don't know. I don't know much about the Muggle world. Given all the wars that have happened since World War Two, maybe not. Or maybe things would have been even worse. So are we going to have a war to make us come around to the idea, too?"

Draco curled his lip. "Absolutely not… which in one sense makes things harder. It takes something appalling to shift people out of their acceptance of mundane dangers. But I've been wondering about a more peaceful way to bring things around – there must be a peaceful way to bring people around to… What?"

Because Harry had smiled.

"Mahatma Malfoy."

"What?"

"I'll find you a book on him. I think they made a movie… There was a man called Gandhi who used peaceful resistance to help get rid of our lot – the British, that is – who were ruling in India. I'm not sure what happened – like I said, I don't know much about Muggle stuff, but he became pretty famous for what he did. I think he ended up ruling India himself."

"Well done him." Draco turned his attention back to the window. "Speaking of changing personalities, I think the dog is learning some manners, anyway. He was almost friendly to me the other morning. Maybe Simon kicking him when he growled at me taught him a lesson. Not exactly peaceful educational techniques, but it seemed to have done the trick in that case."

"Simon kicked him?"

"Not too badly or the dog would be dead. But just enough of a knock to let him know that he had to behave himself. A bit of force to teach him the error of his ways."

So much for Draco the pacifist. Come to think of it, Sirius had been limping when Harry'd seen him in Lupin's office. "That was while I was back in time?"

"Yeah. But he's been much better since then. Maybe he missed you. You were always Lupin's favourite."

Harry didn't want to think that. It complicated things too much. "Lupin was a prefect. And he stood by and let too many things slide."

"So you said. And it's not like it doesn't happen now. I've done it. Your friend Weasley tried it before Granger set him right… I've seen him try to make a second year give up a good seat because he wanted it," he added as Harry gave him a shocked look. "And yeah, I know I've done much worse. I've done it, and I can see what I've done, and I can decide not to do it any more because I know that it's counterproductive."

"So because Lupin was an arse when he was a prefect, he might be a better person now? That's like saying Voldemort is going to go around fundraising for Muggle charities because of all the atrocities he's committed!"

Draco leaned on his elbow and gave Harry one of his 'I'm so much better than you' glares. "You're not listening, Potter. I said that it was a decision. And maybe Lupin can make a decision on what he learned from screwing up other people's lives. Snape did, after all."

"You're not possibly saying I should tell Lupin all is forgiven?"

"You're the one who's been worrying about forgiveness. You tell me."

Ouch. That was low. Harry glared at the other boy who glared back. Not wanting to admit that Draco had a valid point, Harry watched the shaggy black dog trotting up the hill towards the paddock.

ooOOoo